Fade to Black
by Picaro
Summary: Nagi reflects about his teammates and himself....and the way how they all have been dyed black in their lives.


Fade To Black

Somewhen we have turned

Turned into something we don't even have a name for

Something nobody has a name for 

Nothing…

There's nothing I can answer.

Crawford and Schuldig are fighting again. They're often doing that, shouting at each other. Sometimes I think that it's their only way to speak with each other. Throwing insults at each other, cutting until the heart bleeds… It took me long to realize how close they had to be. Always hurting, emotionally, mentally,  but never physically. Schuldig says it's because he wants Brad to relax. He says that his stiffness would kill him some time. Crawford says that it's because Schu´s recklessness, which is almost criminal. He says that it would kill him some day. 

And so they continue ripping each other inwardly apart like rabid animals, clinging to what little sanity it's granting them. 

It's strange. If you look at them, they're total opposites. The all-wild and fancy free  German and the oh-so-correct American, correct to a T. But beyond it… they're the same. The same as us. Freaks of nature, their only wish to be allowed to stay alive. To stay sane.

Sometimes I envy them for their raging ally-ship. At least they're having each other… 

Am I made for you, God?

Never ending, never ending!

Why do we never, ever end?!

Life is stepping so far ahead of our lives.

Ooh, wanting so much to shout out…

On the way to my room I pass by Farfarello. He's strange. Not only because he's insane; I've gotten used to that. No, there's another reason. He hates God. He hates and despises him so much that he destroys anything remotely resembling to that religion. One would expect such a man to ramble incessantly about hurting God and such, but no, Farfarello doesn't ramble. He barely ever speaks. He's also not crazy in the common sense, contrary to popular belief. It's more like he's living in his own world, following its own rules, and just dropped into this one by accident.

There on the carpet's a trace of blood drops, making it easy for me to trace his way back. He even hurts himself just to make some imaginative deity sad… I've never met somebody as ardent passionate as the Irishman in my life before. He says that it would hurt God. Isn't the only one hurting here him? He says he doesn't feel. He says he doesn't care. 

If it really doesn't mean anything to him, why does he keep saying those things? Why?

Lay down on your feet

And pray for all your sins

Prepare to be ready to join your last lesson

Be ready to join your blind listeners

Crawford says that he's using you. Schuldig says that he's enjoying your useless struggles. Farfarello says that he's using your pain. And I? I say nothing, for everything's already been said.

Oh, why have you never, ever given us a chance to prove our worth

To show that we're more than what you think, than what your eyes see?

Why do we never ever have a chance to life for?

When eyes are really a mirror of your soul…Then I have a special pair. A pair of those fake magical ones where you just can see yourself,but never me. A shattered pair, crusted over with long died dreams. Who am I to talk about others? I can't judge. 

Schuldig said that I shouldn't ask what they hear or see. Why neither he nor Crawford ever tells. It's too hard, he says, it's enough if it is killing one of us. Hear the lies they never tell. See their death a hundred times. Racing against the future forever, never able to win for real. Never ask Farfarello, for he'll never even tell.

He says: I'll protect you

For all eternity.

My dear friend, isn't it you,

who's needing all of it? Far from being able to protect me.

Guardian angel….never existed, never failed.

Until all of eternity.

Don't ever ask; why is the Guilty One guilty? Or why needs the oracle the distance granted by a name? Why did become the Christian devil? Or is that in the mirror there really me?

A small boy with a delicate face. I can snap your necks with just my will. Do I really have to be protected ? Do I need a family? In my thoughts, I always answer no, but the reality is yes. I've forgotten in the streets how to live and dream. I need somebody else doing it for me. Even if it's just a borrowed shard… It's okay, as long as it reminds me that I'm still alive.

Once there was a time, I'm sure, where each of us dreamt about doing great deeds. About using our powers for others... To protect instead of killing. Aid instead of destroy. We may be bad, but we were also good once. Before we were broken freaks, chased onto the streets.

And the bloodstained guardian angels kept killing, 

until they were devils themselves.

Good intentions drowned in blood and hate.

We may have been white once, but now we're all dyed black.

And as I flop down onto my bed I keep wondering when it'll be my time to change. I'm the only one still holding onto his right name. 

Schwarz (black). Crawford (the Oracle). Schuldig (Guilty). Farfarello (Devil). And Nagi Naoe.

Closing my eyes, the world is turning black again.

~End

Picaro: ^^* I´ll admit it right now, I´m not the born poet^^*…Actually not at all. Um, yes. Lyrics and story by me. Characters by Weiß Kreuz. Please review!


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